Can't You Tell?
by mimithereader
Summary: PROMPT: I was wondering if you could write one where Stiles (3 months after the nogitsune is gone) gets really drunk and comes to the pack meeting. Then he just gets angry with all of them and talks about the nogitsune and how they look at him. As if the nogitsune still had him and it's a trick. How he's not coping and for once he says he's not ok, he's never been ok.


It's been months. 3 months, 2 days, and 3 hours actually.

Stiles can't take it anymore. He can't handle how wrong the three months since they killed the nogitsune have been.

Tonight's the pack meeting, the first real one they've had since everything.

And, apparently, Stiles is still pack.

He is supposed to be there. _Everyone wants you there, Stiles_ Scott had told him earlier.

Frankly, Stiles doesn't even think Scott wants him there, but it's nice to know everyone's apparently been discussing him behind his back.

He grabs his dad's bottle of jack and head to his jeep.

He parks on the outskirts of the preserve, deciding to walk to the still decimated Hale house that serves as clandestine meeting territory.

He takes a swig from the bottle.

He doesn't stop.

When Stiles reaches the Hale property the werewolves can already smell the alcohol, pungent and repulsive. Derek cuts Scott a sharp look.

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Derek barks.

"I have no idea," Scott says, staring at the door and waiting for Stiles to stumble through it.

Stiles does, eventually, but it takes longer than expected. He nearly trips over the doorjamb, but Scott reaches out a hand to steady him. Stiles shrugs his hand off and tells Scott, "_get off me, damnit." _

Scott's shocked enough to release his hold.

"So whadd' I miss?" Stiles slurs.

Everyone stares at him. No one says a word.

"Fuckin' typical," Stiles says, letting out a bitter laugh.

"What's wrong with you?" It's Lydia that asks. Stiles turns to stare at her.

"Wha's wrong with me? Why don' you fuckin' tell me?" he says too loudly.

"What are you talking about, Stiles?" It's Scott who talks this time.

"What 'm I talkin' 'bout? You all fuckin' look at me like I killed someone!" he shouts.

It's too soon. Much too soon for those words because it might not have been Stiles but all Scott can see is Allison falling to the ground.

"Stiles, that wasn't you," Lydia tells him firmly but the words sound forced and Stiles laughs.

"Look, I know I fuckin' killed her, 'kay? I know Allison's dead 'cause of me. I know that! Aiden too, I know."

Scott wants to disagree with him, wants to comfort him, but he can't. When he closes his eyes he can still feel Stiles push that sword further into him and twist. He knows it wasn't Stiles, he does, but it's hard.

"We don't look at you any differently, Stiles," Kira tries to placate him.

"Maybe you don' 'cause you don' even know me. I mean, who the fuck are you, anyway? You show up outta fuckin' nowhere and now what? We're all just s'pposta be best fuckin' friends with you? Well 'm not the one havin' sex with you, so - "

"Stiles," Scott interjects, cutting him off with a warning look.

"Lydia won't come within three feet of me - " Stiles continues and she has to resist the urge to take a step back. She doesn't want to prove him right. But he is. She can't make herself stand near him, not anymore.

" – D'rek stares at me like he can't even trust me. You all do that, but his eyebrows make it worse - "

No one laughs at the ridiculous statement. Not even Peter. It isn't funny.

"-Scott watches my hands all the time even though i's not like 'm holding a knife and gonna stab you again - "

Scott winces at the memory and hopes it doesn't show on his face. It does.

"-Even fuckin' uncle psycho looks at me like 'm the crazy one! He keep comin' back from the fuckin' dead! Why don' you guys stare at him?"

Peter doesn't have a smartass response.

"Allison's dead. Aiden's dead. No one fuckin' care 'bout Ethan. Isaac's in fuckin' France - "

Everyone's wearing identical expressions of pain at the recount of horrible events.

"-And 'm still here, but it doesn' even matter 'cause no one wants me to be. Guess I can't blame you guys, my own fuckin' dad doesn' wanna be 'round me. He just stays at work. You shoulda jus' killed me when you had the chance. I mean, they wouldn' be dead then and - "

"You would be," Derek says gruffly when everyone else falters for something to say. He isn't expecting Stiles's harsh laugh, an unsettling smile breaking across Stiles's face.

"You don' know? I dunno , thought maybe werewolves could tell or somethin'."

"What are you talking about?" It's Peter that asks, surprisingly.

"Depression. Can't you smell it?" No one responds, so Stiles continues, "I thought for sure one of you would notice, at least Scottie, but I guess even supernatural powers don' matter if the supernatural creatures don' care."

"Don't care about what, Stiles?" Lydia asks, voicing what everyone is thinking.

"I was gonna kill myself every night for the past three months. Only didn' 'cause I thought if I just gave you guys time then it'd be okay. I thought you'd, I dunno, stop me or somethin' when you saw that I haven' slept or eaten anything but then no one said anything but I get it, I do, 'cause I killed them so why should you save me - "

It's Derek who reaches him first. He tugs Stiles forward roughly, pressing Stiles to his chest in a tight embrace, not caring in the slightest when Stiles's tears and snott soak into his shirt.


End file.
